Flashbyte (Byte Series - Ellie Conway Book 4) Page 5

  I looked at Dad. He spoke first. “Come on Carla, let’s go order that pizza.”

  “But I …” she argued, “… but Mom.”

  “I want you to go with Gramps, now.”

  Her shoulders drooped as she was led away. Her head swiveled to look at me. “The new house?”

  “Soon.”

  I pulled my phone and called Kurt.

  “Got something that might interest you,” I said as soon as he answered.

  “I was about to call you. A possible case, I might need your help.”

  “Okay, but me first – because this is going to stink soon.”

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Then a long sigh.

  “Conway, I don’t even want to ask why. Where are you?”

  “At home.” I sighed. “Where else do really bad things happen? I’ll call Sam and Lee.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Afraid so.”

  The call to Lee and Sam was quick. I let them know there was something sinister going on and hung up. I fished my camera from the drawer. From a small box hanging from my key ring I took a fresh memory card and inserted it into the camera. I photographed the box, the paper, and then took judicious pictures of the contents. From another drawer I took a large plastic bag and spread it on the floor. Package by package I unloaded the box, making sure the individual packages were not touching. I photographed them all. There were six. Six packets of what looked like meat. I didn’t for one second think it was animal.

  My gut feel was that it was the other, other, white meat. I’ve never been a fan of Austin Powers and now all I could hear was Fat Bastard going on about how he ate a baby and how it was the other, other white meat. Bile foamed in my gullet. I shoved Fat Bastard and the hideous Austin Powers aside so I could concentrate. I really hoped it wasn’t the other, other white meat, but if it was I hoped it was adult.

  Interesting that the box passed through customs and into the country. Or did it? Things often aren’t what they seem. I had doubts it was even mailed. Seemed odd that a parcel I sent never showed up but a box of meat did. I picked up one bag and turned it over in my hands. It felt like a piece of rump roast, right up until I saw the other side.

  A four-inch black and gray panther tattoo. I dropped it. Blood splattered against the inside of the bag.

  Elvis started up again. I would love to return it to the sender.

  Someone sent me people parts.

  So not cool. Swallowing hard, and breathing through my nose, prevented my last coffee spraying forth and contaminating the evidence.

  I turned another bag over.

  A silvery tiger tattoo.

  Then another.

  An emerald green snake, coiled around a skeleton with roses for eyes.

  Photographing and not thinking helped contain my nausea. By the time I’d taken pictures of all the tattooed hunks of flesh I felt so sick I doubted I could stand. Crawling seemed smart. I crawled out into the hallway and leaned on the wall.

  I could hear the television in the living room. Carla was watching MTV. Her laughter bounced off the walls. Then she called out. “Mom, Rowan’s on TV.”

  “Good, watch it for me,” I called back.

  Dad’s head poked out from the kitchen. He missed me the first time and looked again. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Sitting.”

  “I can see that,” he said.

  “Waiting for the team. We got trouble.”

  Dad nodded. He never exhibited surprise at such statements from me. “I’ll take Carla to see the house and then with me to Aidan’s. I’ve ordered the pizza. Should be enough for the team.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I didn’t ask how he knew. It was the look I gave him when I opened the box.

  “We’ll get going once she’s finished watching Rowan on TV.”

  A smile played on my lips. “I’ll go watch with her.” I tested my legs as I stood. I was aware of a distinct unwillingness to leap to my feet like normal. A more cautious approach was needed.

  One that involved holding the wall and not looking into my office. Someone sent me pieces of people. My joy in solving the bank robbery case was long gone.

  The house phone rang. I heard Dad answer it. My legs worked. They carried me to the living room.

  “Hey, Ellie, Noel for you,” Dad called hurrying up behind me.

  Then I remembered. Dinner. Shit.

  “El, dinner?” Noel said. His voice flowed softer over the phone than in person.

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot. Dad’s ordered pizza, come on over. We’ve had a slight change of plans though.”

  “Slight?”

  “Okay, not slight. Delta is on its way.”

  I heard the quiet hiss as he forced air out through closed teeth. “I’m coming. I wanted to fill you in on your untimely death – plus pizza sounds good. Also heard there was a shooting on Blake Lane today, someone said you were there.”

  “Yeah, I was. See you soon.”

  I handed the phone back to Dad. He looked at me with interest.

  “What?”

  “You could do worse than Noel Gerrard,” he said.

  “I’m sure I could. You should get together with Sam and Lee. They like to discuss potential suitors too. Right now, I like the place I’m at with Rowan.” My fingers crossed all by themselves. “Can I please choose my own boyfriend?”

  Dad grinned. “Sure you can, kid.”

  “Rowan is one hell of a guy. Ever think that maybe I quite like him?”

  “We love you, kid. That’s all.”

  I didn’t reply. Carla moved her feet off the couch so I could sit next to her.

  “Rowan looks different on stage,” she said.

  I laughed. “Well, he’s vertical for starters. Guess that’s different from lying on the sofa.”

  Carla giggled. “What’s it like to see him live?”

  I could see where we were heading.

  “It’s something you’ll find out when you’re older,” I replied giving her a hug.

  “But some kids in my class have seen them …”

  “Carla, we’ve talked about this.”

  “I know,” she huffed. “It’s just that everyone else has seen him.”

  “And you just get to see him lie on the couch, or get to whip his ass at guitar hero … and watch movies with him.”

  She smiled and leaned on me. “You’re saying I’m lucky, huh?”

  “I’m just saying that you get to know the man behind the microphone and that is worth so much more than a concert ticket.”

  We watched Grange perform their latest single and then the interview with Rowan, Gracey, Martin, Tony, and Derek, the people who made up Grange the band. Carla squealed as Rowan said, “Bringing you home a present, Carla.” And winked at the camera. I nudged her. And she grinned. “You’re right, Mom.”

  Within seconds her cell phone was buzzing. Guess half the school was watching Grange on MTV. Rowan was great. He adored Carla and coped well with my job as long as I didn’t talk about work.

  I learned that lesson early on. He’s not one of us. He’s not a law enforcement officer. He’s not a LEO. He doesn’t appreciate the finer details involved in my daily round with the worst of humanity. His enthusiasm for life adds balance to mine and tempers my views. I don’t understand his world any more than he understands mine, but at least in his no one shoots at him, and things don’t explode. I do know that his manager and publicist would love nothing better than to break us up. They don’t like my job and deem it detrimental to Grange. Cracked album that they were, they had valid concerns, but Rowan refused point blank to listen to them regarding me. I expected that sooner or later he’d be forced to listen and he would disappear from our lives. I wasn’t sure how that knowledge made me feel.

  “What was in the package?” Carla asked as the television show ended. She turned off the TV.

  “Just some stuff that wasn’t for me,” I said,
staring at the blank screen.

  “Just stuff?” she repeated. “How come Grandpa and I are going to see the house without you then?”

  I sighed. “You’re going to Uncle Aidan’s for dinner. I’ll pick you up later. We’ll stay in a hotel tonight.”

  Her eyes lit up. “A hotel. Cool.” Before the words were even cold in the air she was already texting her friends. Her thumb froze mid-text. Her eyes met mine. “What about Shrek?”

  “Take him to Aidan’s with you,” I suggested.

  She nodded with approval. “Shrek likes it at Uncle Aidan’s.” The texting resumed. I took the opportunity to seek out my father and have a word. He was in the laundry taking down the cat carrier from a shelf. He passed it to me.

  “Shrek was in your office standing over the box,” he said. “He might still be there.”

  I went and had a look. He was. His big, gray fluffy self was patting at the bagged lumps of meat with a fat furry paw. Gross. I scooped him up and pushed him into the carrier.

  “You can go with Carla to Uncle Aidan’s. Now I remember why I like dogs. They’re less likely to eat you if you die at home,” I whispered to the cat. He purred at me. I knew given half a chance the cat would eat our warm dead bodies and enjoy the meal.

  Dad stood in the doorway. “Have you warned your brother?”

  “Not yet.”

  I sent a quick text asking that he watch Shrek for a few days. His reply was instant and affirmative. There were two reasons why I had the cat: It belonged to my deceased husband, and Carla loved Shrek. While I had the poor animal on my own, he didn’t have a name because I couldn’t remember if Mac had ever named him, and I was forever running out of cat food. Carla named him Shrek, and reminded me to buy him food. Shrek slept on Carla’s bed.

  I packed Dad, Shrek, and Carla out the door. I didn’t want Carla around when Delta arrived to deal with the box.

  Hell, I didn’t want to be around either, but it was a bit harder for me to run away; being the SSA of Delta required me to suck it up and deal. Thus far, I’d managed to suck it up and ignore. That was as close to dealing as I was going to get.

  The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen. Dad had made us fresh coffee before leaving. The man had no end to his parental ways. I set out mugs on the counter and waited for the inevitable.

  Five

  If I Could Turn Back Time

  A knock at the front door was followed by a curse and a creak, as the door attempted to repel entry in time-honored fashion.

  “We’re here,” Lee called. “You ever going to fix the door?”

  I poked my head out and viewed the four men standing in the hallway. Lucky I have such a big hallway. It was now full to overflowing, and no one in it was shorter than six feet tall.

  “So I see, and no.” I smiled. “Coffee’s made.”

  “Pour it,” Noel said, sniffing the air. “That’s Simon’s coffee, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. My father’s coffee was legendary.

  “I’ll pour. Go into my office. You’ll see the issue.” I ducked back into the kitchen. The herd passed the doorway. I waited. About ten seconds later, there was a collective hissing from the office. I guessed they’d seen the box.

  I waited.

  One by one three men came into the kitchen.

  Sam looked a little ill. “Chicky Babe, you get some interesting mail.”

  “Don’t I though? I doubt this was delivered by a regular mail carrier. I’m thinking a box of meat wouldn’t get through customs. Despite the stickers all over it, I suspect someone dropped it off at the door. Courier maybe, or some people-chopping freak.”

  “Good point,” Lee said. “I’d like to think this wasn’t mailed.”

  Noel remained quiet.

  “Why the New Zealand customs declaration and overseas postage?” Sam said.

  I shrugged. “I don’t fuc’n know. What’s with the six numbers on the box lid? Why send it to me?”

  “Someone thinks you’re a cannibal?” Lee offered. “Disturbing how they look like rump roast.”

  Saliva built in my mouth, thoughts of beef rump roasts were replaced by pork. It’d been years since I’d eaten Boston butt and suddenly I craved it. Roasted, or smoked, or barbequed Boston butt. My stomach growled. Why call it butt when the meat comes from a shoulder?

  Sam frowned. Mr. T and LL Cool J meet Klingon. Not a good look. “The numbers must be relevant. I’ll exercise the gray matter over those for a bit.”

  Kurt appeared in the doorway. “Nice parcel.” He removed latex gloves and dropped them into the trash under the counter. “I’ll take it into the lab. Those tattoos are distinctive and might help with getting IDs on the bodies. Could be the same artist, which would give us something to work with.”

  “Bodies?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah. Six, I think.”

  “Not all one person then?”

  “Nope. Not unless the person had some kind of bizarre skin condition that turned him or her into patchwork.”

  There was a smirk edging in. A people-patchwork quilt. Pretty, with all the tattoos, but not something I fancied cuddling under. Weird that I hadn’t noticed the variation in skin color, or maybe it was more tone. Why didn’t I notice? Jiminy Cricket hopped onto Doc’s head, rearranged his hair, and settled in.

  But Doc was a real boy already.

  “So the tattooed lumps all came from men,” I said. Jiminy nodded his head and beamed a happy smile.

  “Could be men,” Doc replied. “Is there something I should know?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Share?”

  “Jiminy Cricket is sitting on your head. Seems to think the victims are all men.”

  “Real boys.”

  “Yeah.”

  Well, they’re not donkeys. My sense of the absurd kicked in. I wondered if Jiminy was telling me they were asses.

  “Asinus to be precise,” Jiminy said with a nod.

  “Does that mean someone’s nose will grow if they tell a lie?” Doc said, running one hand through his hair. The action dislodged Jiminy who tumbled backwards. He grabbed at a lone hair strand and hauled himself back up.

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “Maybe it will.” That’d make it so much easier to interview suspects. Or it would if we had any. Jiminy settled into Doc’s hair again. He looked shaken after his near miss.

  I thought about the box and its gruesome contents for a few minutes. Doc tapped me on the arm.

  “Sorry, what do you need?” I said, dragging my eyes off the top of his head and refocusing.

  “You to be present for a few minutes. Can you do that?” he replied, peering into my eyes in a medical way.

  “I’m not un-present. I was thinking. I do that from time to time.”

  “Nothing else going on?”

  Jiminy jumped to his feet, bowed, and disappeared. Worry wart.

  “Nope, a box of body parts is enough for one evening.” I smiled. “What do you need me to be present for?”

  “There are six numbers in the box lid, and I suspect six different bodies.”

  Sam moved one step closer.

  “They could be some kind of identity number,” I surmised. “Now that’s interesting.”

  Sam and Doc nodded. Lee and Noel stopped talking by the door and looked over. It didn’t take them long to catch up.

  “I’ll Google the numbers and see if anything jumps out,” Sam said.

  “Smacks of a long shot. If it’s that easy, we’ll have this case solved in less than a day. That’d be a new record for what appears to be a multiple murder,” I said. “Unless of course they weren’t murdered … bodies stolen from a morgue, maybe?”

  “I’ll look into morgue disappearances,” Lee said.

  “Statewide, and check out hospital morgues as well as city and county.” I took a breath. “If you get nothing, widen the search to include the entire east coast.”

  “How about New Zealand?” Lee said.

  “I’ll call Detective Faye Smi
th and see if she can offer any insight. I still don’t see this parcel coming by mail.”

  The customs declaration and stamps concerned me. The whole package disturbed the hell out of me. My first priority was to make sure Carla was not in the DC area. Freaks can’t be trusted to keep their freakishness away from children. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t have this solved within a day. Sure miracles happen, but I’m not holding my breath waiting for one.

  “Run the pictures of the tattoos through our new biometric software, if any of these people were ever arrested we’ll be able to match our pictures with their identity.”

  It sounded like another long shot. Having them in the biometric database would be almost too easy.

  Sam agreed with a nod. “Another resource to consider – Cyber is monitoring social network sites and compiling a database of tattoos and distinguishing marks.”

  “That sounds like a class action lawsuit in the making,” I said.

  “I don’t think they’re mining data to that degree, I heard they were monitoring people who bragged about crimes, or who were known associates of criminals. I’ll ask if they can give us a hand trying to identify our victims.”

  “I take it this is a need-to-know kinda thing?”

  “I’d say so, I sure haven’t heard anything about it out in the world,” said Sam.

  It’s not something we’d want to be talking about in public. People might stop posting their awesome new tattoo pictures if they thought we were copying them to our databases, along with their names, location, the contents of their friends list, ISP address, and anything else that might help us solve a crime or two.

  My phone rang, damn near giving me a heart attack. I answered it to find Sandra on the other end of the line.

  “Ellie, we have a problem.”

  No kidding?

  “A new one?”

  “Nope – continuation of an earlier situation. You’re dead again.” She blew out a sigh. “Any idea where the team is?”

  “Here with me, so is Noel. Do you need him?”

  “Nope, this isn’t navy. This time it’s a Greer Conway in Alexandria.”